Goody and the Jerk
by The Barking Duck
Summary: In a parody of the CW's Beauty and the Geek, 8 Xmen are paired up with their worst enemies in Mojo's latest attempt to up his viewership.


Usual disclaimer. Anyone who has a financial interest in either Marvel or the CW: I don't know you, I'm not after your job, and I won't see a red cent from any of this. So quit looking a me like that.

As a man of mostly instinct, Logan never wore a watch. He ate when he was hungry, slept when he was tired, and went out drinkin' too often, according to Jean. Still, who needed to remember what time it was in this joint? Among other things, Xavier's place was a school, so you pretty much knew the time depending if the students were eating breakfast, doing laps, or getting out of afternoon study. Evening was more of a crapshoot, with everyone doing their own thing until lights out at 10:30. Still, though he was in the garage tinkering under the hood of a Chevy Blazer with no clock in sight, Logan knew it was exactly 8:00 on a Tuesday evening.

Because there went Jubilee.

"C'mon, Cyke, please!"

Scott sighed from behind his model ship. "No, and I'm tired of repeating myself every week. You know what the professor said: no reality TV."

Jubilee shook the TV listings at him. "But 'Beauty and the Geek' doesn't really count as a reality TV show! It's a," she looked at the tiny print in her hand, "'social experiment', or like a game show, y' know, like 'Wheel of Fortune' or something."

Scott picked up a small paintbrush and started shaking a bottle of paint. "No."

Jubilee's right hand clenched tightly around the newsprint, which started to smoke. "Do you know who the producer is? Ashton Kutcher. ASH-TON KUTCH-ER. We have to support one of our own!"

Scott's eyebrow went up. "He's a mutant?"

"If you count being smoking hot a mutant power," Jubilee breathed, a dreamy smile on her face. Henry, who had paused his chess game with Ororo to listen to their conversation, rolled his eyes and shook his head at this latest display of Jubilee's exuberant youthfulness. In the corner of the room, Remy and Rogue were too caught up in their game of foosball to notice the latest Jubes versus Cyke power struggle.

Scott rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead and sighed. He needed to find a way to put this same, tired argument to bed once and for all. "Jubilee, for the last time. No. Reality. TV. You've talked to the professor about it, to me about it, and none of your arguments have or will ever change our minds. The fact is, reality TV is a waste of time. Most of TV is a waste of time, really. You have better things to do with your time than shlump in front of the screen watching mindless entertainment."

"Mindless entertainment, dear? Well, perhaps, but entertainment nonetheless, especially when you're a part of the action, wouldn't you agree, darling?"

All action stopped at the sound of the familiar voice suddenly emanating from the big screen across the room. The lights flickered a bit as energy was drawn into the TV set, and in a sudden flurry of static and arms, out danced Spiral--the six-armed, sword-wielding, dimensional-dancing, Mojo underling. Chess pieces scattered as Henry immediately leaped to a defensive pose, while Remy's hand began to glow as he reached for his pocket.

Scott rose and wished he were wearing his visor instead of his ruby quartz glasses. Out of habit, his fingers still rose to touch his frames should the need for action arise. "Oh, please, save it for the audience," Spiral sneered at him. "Your producer awaits." Then, before anyone could move, her hands and arms began to sway and gesticulate, and in a fuzzy moment of gray confusion, suddenly eight X-men found themselves lined up in a row, blinking in bright sunlight as they stood facing a mansion surrounded by palm trees.

Rogue looked around her and was the first to speak. "Where the sam hell are we?"

None of them--Scott, Jean, Ororo, Henry, Remy, Betsy, or Logan--seemed to have a definite answer. Logan sniffed the air and spoke what some had guessed. "Ocean, smog," he sniffed again, "ozone. My guess is southern California."

Scott immediately went into command mode. "Okay, people, at least she didn't teleport us to the Shiar empire. Let's just get back to Westchester as fast as we can. Jean, Betsy, can you contact the professor from here?"

Jean looked up from where she'd been staring at the ground. "I've been trying since we arrived, Scott. I'm not reaching him. It's like he's not even there."

"Nor would he be," Ororo broke off her gaze at the sky to glance at Logan. "Please don't take offense Logan, but this isn't California; this isn't even Earth. The weather patterns are different; wrong. It's a good facsimile, but not the real thing."

A sudden clapping emanated from the house, and all eyes turned to the front door where the slimy spineless one, Mojo, shuffled into view atop his spider-like mechanical legs. "Bravo, oh quite remarkable, genius, glorious," he gushed in his maniacal tenor. "See that she remains in the contest for a long time," he commanded Spiral behind him, pointing a long, bulbous finger at Ororo. "Viewers like the clever ones."

Logan's nostrils flared and his lips parted in the beginning of a snarl, but it was Scott who took a step forward and spoke. "What's your game, Mojo?"

"Questions! Questions!" he shrieked. "Cast members aren't allowed to speak to the producer! Time is money! Money is time! Just do your thing, the camera loves you!" Then his body began to blink and spark before the holographic projection of Mojo snapped off.

Spiral turned to them and seemed almost sweet compared to her employer. "Welcome to Mojo Productions' first season of 'Goody and the Jerk.'"

"I beg your pardon?" Henry asked. "'Goody and the Jerk'?"

Spiral continued as though she hadn't heard him. "In this infinitely superior, interstellar version of Earth's 'Beauty and the Geek,' you will be participating in a social experiment to see if a 'Goody' and a 'Jerk' can combine to become more than you are separately."

Betsy threw her hands in the air in a display of impatience. "This is absolute rubbish. What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Spiral narrowed her eyes at the purple-haired ninja. "Now, now, we can have that sort of language coming from the mouth of a Goody. Appearances must be kept, and editing can only do so much, you know." As if to prove her point, Spiral squinted at a TV screen that suddenly appeared at her elbow, where a image of Betsy began to distort and warp until it began to play normally, only this time her lips and voice clearly said, "This is absolute delish! What the muddy bell are you walking around?" Spiral sighed and pointed to the screen as though seeking patience with an imperfect system.

Scott's patience, however, had run out. "Enough tricks, Spiral, tell us what's going on," he demanded.

"Really, with such rude behavior and language from the Goodies, we may have to cancel you and bring in replacements." She paused and put a finger to her lips as though in thought. "I wonder if the Fantastic Four are busy? Though I doubt they'd make as . . . interesting of partners with the Jerks we've already cast."

As though on cue, the air started to rumble with the distant sound of large machinery. Immediately the eight X-men, in battle costume, they now noticed, placed themselves in defensive positions, ready to fight if the need arose. Storm and Rogue both took to the skies, and as such were the first to see the vehicles approaching.

"Uh, fellas," Rogue called down from where she hovered in the air above the others, "I think Mojo's lil' show is about to get a whole lot more interestin'."

Scarcely had the words left her lips before the vans moved into view. Large, white, and plain, they were unimpressive but for the large, black letters written on the sides: NEW YORK STATE PENITENTIARY - MUTANT DIVISION.

The gravel of the drive crackled under the bullet-proof tires as the two vans pulled to a stop in front of the mansion. Beefy, well-armed guards jumped quickly out and, taking no notice of the brightly dressed X-men nearby, raised rifles to the shoulder as they took position at the rear of each van. By remote control, the van doors unbolted and slowly drew open, sending a wider and wider band of light into the windowless passenger area. A gangplank slowly and mechanically lowered into position, and soon a pair of curvaceous, blue legs wrapped in white vinyl revealed themselves before all of Mystique came into view.

"I never could resist a man in uniform, but really, I think all 12 of you is a bit much," Mystique purred, displaying a sly grin below flashing yellow eyes. The Genoshan slave collar around her throat, as well as the manacles encasing her hands, also flashed in the fake Californian sunlight, but Mystique ignored them as she made her way down the gangplank.

"I don't think they are the type to go after older women. Especially such an _older_ woman as you, Mystique," sniped Zaladane behind her. She also sported the collar and manacles, leaving her temporarily without use of the magnetic powers she claimed from her sometime father, Magneto.

Logan's hackles raised even before he heard the next prisoner's voice. "Don't you frails ever shut up? You make me wish they'd open fire and put me outta my misery. Women are . . ." but Victor Creed, aka Sabertooth, stopped as though he'd walked into the Blob and sniffed the air again. "Wolverine," he growled, turning to look over his shoulder where the X-men were assembled. His collar still flashing active, Victor decided not to rip out the runt's throat just yet, but once the power was turned off . . .

"Ah, now, Toad, me lad, time to stretch our legs. Oh, uh, after you, of course, Lady Deathstrike."

"Gajin filth," Yuriko Oyama spat at St. John Allerdyce, walking proudly before him out of the second van. The man known as Pyro muttered a flavorful Aussie insult under his breath after she'd passed by, then carelessly made his way to the ground, followed by a very dry and very annoyed Mortimer "Toad" Toynbee.

"Welcome, Jerks!" Spiral called out to them. "That will do," and she waved at the armed guard, who vanished with the vans as though nothing more than ocean mist.

"Jerks?" "What the #! is going on?" the new arrivals began, before Spiral, rolling her eyes, began speaking over them. "Really, must I repeat myself? The 16 of you are going to participate in an interstellar version of . . ."

"I tink your numbers a bit off, chere," Remy interrupted mid card shuffle. "There be only 14 of us."

Spiral's mouth unconsciously dropped open as she did a quick head count. "Damn it," she cursed quietly as she realized her mistake, then twirling her arms and swaying her hips in a mechanical, irritated manner, she vanished from the grounds with a slight pop!

Mystique immediately turned toward the assembled X-men. "Talk, Boy Scouts. What are we doing here?"

Scott's answer was brief. "Mojo. This is another of his attempts to entertain the masses at our expense."

"The only entertainment I want to see with you, Skinny," Victor snarled at him, "is feeling you break between my hands while your red-headed frail watches."

"Watch your mouth, Sabertooth," Logan warned with a distinctive _snikt_! Cyke could walk off a pier for all he cared, but nobody talked that way about Jean. "Don't make me shut you up."

"Care to try, big man? Come on!"

Rogue grabbed Logan by the shoulders before he could take the first step. "Whoa there, gunner," she said, holding him back. "Better cool them jets 'til we can figure out how to get out of here. I know he's a pig, I've felt it myself," and here Rogue's mouth twisted as though tasting something foul, "but we may need all of us out to get outta this."

Ororo laid a cool brown hand on Logan's arm. "Rogue's right, this is no time to lose our heads over old feuds."

"We'll see who loses his head once this collar comes off," Victor warned, but didn't have time to say more before the light started snapping between the two groups and arms and legs began to appear from nowhere.

"Ugh, finally," Spiral gasped after she fully materialized. "If I had to feel your weight for one more second . . ."

Then the ground shook as Cain Marko, the Juggernaut, fully fell from the transportation to the ground beneath him. Deathbird, the treacherous Shiar princess, followed closely behind him.

"Tramp!" she screeched, rubbing her backside. "Explain yourself before I discover the delight of tearing off six arms instead of two."

"You see?" Spiral asked Betsy, ignoring the raging Shiar behind her. "Jerks can get away with that kind of language."

"Where are we? An' who you callin' a jerk, lady?!" Cain bellowed.

"Merely a title, nothing more, I assure you." Spiral's grin seemed wolfish, and two of her hands stood poised above the hilts of her swords. "Shall we carry on? Are you all ready to be teamed up?"

"Amusing and educational as I'm sure your little enterprise would no doubt be, you can surely understand by our demeanors that none of us care to participate," Henry began, trying his hand at a diplomatic way out. "Perhaps if you were to have a casting session among your own people, you would no doubt find many willing partici . . ."

"Enough!" Spiral cried, this time her hand gripping a sword and slicing the air in front of her in the time it took to breathe. "Casting is finished, the show has begun. There will be no more arguments. I transported you here. I could just as easily transport you all to an airless moon." And she wielded the sword in front of her to show she meant it. "Now then, the 16 of you will be paired up into teams: one Goody" and she gestured at the X-men, "and one Jerk," and she waved her hand to indicate the rest of those assembled. "Oh, and you won't be needing those any more." And with the same dismissive hand wave that evaporated the men and vans, the Genoshan collars and manacles faded from sight. "Your assignment: complete the challenges assigned to you. The winners of each challenge will be safe from elimination, and at the same time will choose another team to go to the Elimination Room. In the Elimination Room, two teams will answer a series of questions about the recent challenges. That team who answers the least amount of questions correctly will be eliminated. Canceled. Removed." Spiral could almost see the same pattern of thought rotating in 16 different heads. "And don't think that throwing challenges and questions will buy you a faster ticket back. Those eliminated will be sent to the Void, a waiting room of sorts. where only those who win will be able to liberate them. If there are no winners, well," and here she shrugged her shoulders, "Mojo Productions is under no obligation to return contestants to their former realm."

"You mean we play, or we get sent into oblivion forever?" St. John asked.

Spiral only sneered. "You comic book creations have such a talent for pointing out the obvious. I guess the clueless reader needs help from somewhere. Speaking of which," Spiral said, turning to look right at me from my computer screen. "You've done your job of properly introducing everyone with their real names. Quite frankly dear, no one cares. So let's just drop the "St. John's" and the "Ororo's" and call everyone by their code names, kay?"

I blush as I realize I've been caught in supreme nerdiness, and readily agree before she decides to reach six cold hands out of my monitor and pull me into the nothingness of cyberspace.

"That's a dear." Then readjusting herself, she looked at the two groups. "You will be paired in the following, randomly drawn combinations. Team One: Psylocke & Juggernaut."

Psylocke looked a little apprehensively behind her as she walked away from the other X-men toward her chosen partner. Juggernaut just enjoyed the view and was glad he got the X-man who showed the most skin as his partner.

"Team Two: Lady Deathstrike & Cyclops."

Cyclops reluctantly left Phoenix behind as he moved away. Lady Deathstrike held her head high and walked with that willowy grace her enhanced physiology and Asian upbringing gave her. At least her partner understood something of honor and respect, gajin dog he was.

"Team Three: Phoenix & Pyro."

"Now that's the right combination, there," Pyro remarked as he walked to his position. "Fire and cosmic fire. We can't be beat, girlie."

Phoenix just nodded her head in acknowledgment of him as her partner, but inside was worried. The game looked simple, but the stakes, she feared, were perhaps too high.

"Team Four: Deathbird & Beast."

"The two genetic throwbacks, how fitting," Deathbird remarked with sarcasm. Beast tensed under his blue fur at the insult, but decided to put it into intellectual context instead of taking offense. His partner was suffering from an inferiority complex, perhaps?

"Team Five: Storm & Sabertooth."

Storm was co-captain of the X-men, a childhood thief in Cairo, and a one-time goddess of a people. She almost embodied poise and courage, but her fingers trembled a little as she stood next to her partner, trying very hard to ignore his sudden need to lick his lips.

"Team Six: Zaladane & Gambit."

Zaladane's smile was wicked, and her hips moved gently from side to side as she sauntered forward. The good-looking bad boy, the thief, the one with the rebellious streak; that was her partner. With her influence, who knew what his potential may be? Gambit looked away from her overt wantonness and clenched his fingers around his bo staff.

"Team Seven: Rogue & Toad."

Rogue did a little mental comparison as she walked forward. Yep, just as she thought. Her teammate was the weakest of the Jerk bunch. Agility and an extendable tongue were great and all, but didn't really match up against magnetism or feral abilities. Toad just seemed relieved the collars were finally removed, and jumped in place agitatedly while he waited to be dismissed, hopefully to find some water.

"And finally, Team Eight: Mystique & Wolverine."

Wolverine and Mystique barely looked at each other as they walked to the last position in the queue. Both didn't trust the other, or the whole situation, for that matter. They had individually survived as long as they had from avoiding or, if necessary, surviving suspicious situations.

"Well now, that's not so bad, is it? Today is your day to settle in and adjust. Enjoy it while it lasts. You won't have many more days of respite ahead of you. I will return tomorrow morning with your first challenge. So rest well, and let the social experiment begin!"

Spiral danced again into nothingness, leaving the newly formed teams of Goodies and Jerks standing confusedly on the front drive. Then, looking at one another with mistrust and anxiety, they began to move toward the house.

X x X x X

Hey there, thanks for reading. This started on a whim, and I have no preconceived ideas as to who will win or what challenges they should do. Suggestions? I'd love to hear yours.


End file.
